Dry Mouthed Goldfish

Well, I survived the interview. Just. But won't hold my breath for a positive outcome. I've decided you can just never tell with these things.

I manage to get to the interview on time, in one piece. For me, this is a good start. I was in my 'grown up' outfit, not too trendy, not too corporate (well, the best a girl like me can do anyway... fashion is not my thing). Portfolio under arm. Or more accurately, in hand. Great bloody heavy thing that it is. Why is it every interview requires a flight of stairs before you get to the reception.

So I climb the stairs and puffingly announce myself to the receptionist. Sign all the obligatory security forms, and am taken to a meeting room and left with some forms to fill in.

*Warning, gratuitous whinging about to occur* Why, oh why, do I need to fill in a 6 page badly written even worsely (worsely??) set up form, with all the information that is in my resumé, the same resumé that they already have in their hot little hands?? hmmmm. So, arrive at 2:00, flaff about and fill in forms until 2:15. Then sit. And sit. Meanwhile, I'm in a glassed in meeting room right by the entrance, so every man and his proverbial dog has a bit of a gander as they come back in from lunch or whatever. I'm feeling rather uncomfortable and conspicuous, to say the least. Oh, and this compounded with the fact I haven't consumed anything today other than coffee (yep I know, big tactical error) means I'm dry mouthed and jumpy.

The HR woman turns up at 2:30. "Did you drive?" she asks. "Yes". "Great, we need to go to the other site" she says. "Oh, ok". "Follow me" she says. "Sure." Gives me a chance to subtly bung on some lip stuff to combat the dry-lip-syndrome, if nothing else. Off she screeches into the heavy four-laned traffic, as only someone who knows this road on an intimate level would do. After her I follow, heart in now-moist mouth, hoping the van careering towards me isn't going as fast as it seems to be. I'm not a nervous driver by a long shot, but that was certainly an interesting exit!

I follow her around a couple of blocks and turn up at a big old industrial estate, find parking, and go into a run down building. Up another flight of stairs... boy I'm glad I emptied out a lot of stuff from this portfolio before I came out today. Into a room that looks like it was last decorated in 1976, and in comes the Production Manager. So I have the interview with them both, which I'm actually pleased about, because it means one less interview to do.

Hmmm so how did the actual interview go? I suffered from the blathers. Blathered on too much. No idea if what I was saying was making much sense. But at least I'd stopped blushing. I'm a terrible blusher, but I got that out of the way in the first half hour when I was doing my goldfish impersonation in the original meeting room.

They asked lots of questions. I attempted to answer them. They finally asked to see my portfolio, but because the interview had gone overtime (hmmm wonder why) I had to rush through that part.

So we'll see. I'm always proud to just survive the darned things. I think the job would be challenging. The work itself is tight-deadlined, there's a language issue as most of the print floor speaks Mandarin, and I'd be expected to do a fair amount of overtime. And it is early morning starts (for me) which doesn't thrill me. I am an afternoon person. Always have been. But I'm sure I can adjust. hehe did I convince ANYONE just then? But it would be a huge learning curve for me, a good challenge, I like the clients' products, and the Production Manager seemed like a straight shooter. I was a little self conscious because when I wear heels I'm around 6', and he was probably about 5'4". But he had a good handshake, and I think that says a lot about a person.

So, we'll just have to sit back and wait.

In the meantime, I haven't been able to scratch up some work this week, so I might do some housework. Or teach myself some more InDesign. Ok ok, let's be honest, I'll be checking out blogs, going to the shops for some chocolate, checking out some emails, playing with the kittens... Procrastination, thy name is Hooch.